


rain against the glass

by pageleaf



Category: The Queen's Thief - Megan Whalen Turner
Genre: Banter, Fluff, M/M, Post-Thick as Thieves, Queerplatonic Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-17
Updated: 2017-08-17
Packaged: 2018-12-16 08:52:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11825298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pageleaf/pseuds/pageleaf
Summary: When he's released from his cell, Costis is sent to his old room with orders to get some rest.





	rain against the glass

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jain/gifts).



When he's released from his cell, Costis is sent to his old room with orders to get some rest. Once there, however, he takes one look at the solitary little room, quiet with its bare, windowless walls, and turns right back around.

He heads for the barracks, nods at the guards chatting out front and then makes a beeline for the southeast corner, a path his feet have taken many times. He pauses at his old room--his room before his promotion to Lieutenant, before Eugenides happened to him--and then shakes his head, moving on. At the room next to it, he halts, and raises his fist to knock.

The door opens, and a tall, scrawny girl sticks her head out, peering at him uncertainly. "L-lieutenant," she says. "Is there something I can do for you?"

"Hello," Costis says, nonplussed. "I, um. Is this not—" He looks around, wondering if he's wandered into the wrong wing, but no, this should be correct. "Is this not Squad Leader Aristogiton's quarters?"

"Centurion," the girl says, and Costis looks back at her.

"What?"

The girl half-smiles apologetically. "He's Centurion now, sir. He's in the officers' barracks now."

Costis rocks back, stunned, though by all rights he shouldn't be. It makes sense; Costis has been gone for two years, and Aris was a damn good squad leader. Of course he would be promoted.

He thanks the girl and leaves the common barracks, crossing the sun-soaked grounds, teeming with eager trainees, to the other side, where the officers reside. He finds someone he recognizes inside, and asks them, "Where can I find—"

"Down the left hall, four doors down on the right." They smile at him, crooked. "Welcome back, Lieutenant."

Costis flushes, scratching the back of his neck as he enters the cool barracks. He walks down the hall and stops in front of the fourth door. He bites his lip, fist hovering in the air. Finally, hesitantly, he knocks.

No answer.

He sighs, dropping his forehead to the door wearily. Gods, he just wants to sleep. He's been on his feet for too long.

"Costis?"

Costis whips around. Aris stands in the hallway, backlit by the sun from one of the few open windows. He's smiling at Costis, warm and a little worried, and Costis smiles back.

"Aris," he says with a laugh, leaning back against the door heavily. "I was looking for you." Aris tilts his head at him wordlessly, so Costis adds, "It's good to see you?"

Aris frowns. "Costis," he says, "are you all right?"

The smile falls, and Costis sighs. "I was looking for a place to rest," he says haltingly, "and my quarters felt--wrong."

"Ah," Aris says, face smoothing over into understanding, sympathy. "Well, come in dear Lieutenant, make yourself at home." He nudges Costis aside gently and unlocks the door, and Costis blinks. Privacy must be one of the perks of an officer. Perhaps if Costis were a normal lieutenant, he'd have the same.

He follows Aris in and shuts the door behind himself. It's bigger, but not much else is different: the small barred window; the lamp (unlit) on the wall; the tiny desk with quill and inkpot and paper, and the letter opener Costis knows was a gift from Aris's sister. There's a new cloak slung over the chair, however. High quality fabric, expensive embroidery. That's a new leather sword belt that Aris is dropping onto the floor. And at his hip, a gun, plain and unassuming, but clearly hailing from the queen's armory.

Aris notices him looking, and smiles wryly. "Sorry, the scenery's a little different," he says. He removes the gun and sets it on the chair by the window, before stepping forward into Costis's space. He eyes him knowingly, and Costis swallows, ducking his head. He wants, but he doesn't know how to ask. It's been so long.

With an exasperated huff, Aris grabs the back of Costis's neck and pulls him down to his level. He kisses him.

Costis sighs, opening himself up into it. He rests his hand on Aris's hip, and Aris grabs his forearm, pulls it tighter around his own waist.

"No sense in being shy," Aris says, pulling back. "The scenery might be different, but this isn't."

Costis smiles, kissing him again. "The rank is different," he says, and then smirks. "It suits you."

Aris rolls his eyes. "Don't involve me in your fetish for authority," he says. "You still out-rank me, you bastard, though not for long if I have anything to say about it." He shoves Costis in the chest, toward the bed, and Costis stumbles backward with a laugh. Aris undoes the laces of his breeches, and Costis follows suit, stripping down to his undershirt before lying back on the bedspread. Aris glances up at him. "Take that off, too," he says, and Costis huffs, pulling the shirt over his head and tossing it onto the floor.

"Done," Costis says, and then grins. "You still haven't even taken your breeches off, Centurion?"

"You're a menace," Aris grumbles, stepping out of them finally and pulling off his tunic. He's not wearing anything underneath, and Costis's mouth goes dry. "I should make you fold your clothes _and_ mine."

"Well," Costis says weakly, "I outrank you, remember?"

Aris scowls at him and lunges at him on the bed, ignoring Costis's half-hearted protests to pin him down by the wrists, sitting on his hips. "What was that?"

"I said," Costis says, grinning wider, "have you gotten smaller, Centurion?"

"You know very well I have not," Aris says hotly. It's true; the better pay has been good to him, the wiry muscle from before turning into real bulk. "But speaking of--I'm impressed, Costis."

"Hmm?"

"I didn't think it was possible for you to get any more obnoxiously large, and yet here we are." Aris huffs, right thumb stroking over the muscle of Costis's shoulder, feeling the definition. "What did they feed you in Medea?"

Costis scoffs. "These are the muscles of hard work," he teases. "It's no surprise that you don't have them."

Aris scowls again, and then loses the expression, breaking into laughter. "Oh, you asshole," he says. "How I've missed you."

"I—" Costis begins, meaning to say _I've missed you too_ , but his voice catches abruptly. He watches in consternation as Aris sobers, looking him over carefully.

"Costis," he says. "Tell me what you need?"

Costis swallows. "I need," he attempts, and then cuts himself off. Aris waits, while Costis tries to form his words. He's never been good at this.

He's never been good at spying, either, and somehow that's what he's ended up doing. Maybe what he wants--what he needs--is just a little bit of normality.

He clears his throat and tries again. "I need this." He shifts his wrists in Aris's grasp, and Aris lets go, letting Costis wrap his arms around him and pull him down. The weight of him pinning Costis down, blanketing him, is the greatest comfort, and Costis closes his eyes with a sigh.

"That's it," Aris soothes, and Costis feels his hands in his hair. "When was the last time you properly slept, hmm?"

"Don' know," Costis mumbles. "A year?" Aris huffs, amused, and happiness rolls through Costis like warm water.

"All right," Aris says. "Sleep, then. We'll talk later about what you've been up to."

Costis takes a deep breath, inhaling the familiar scent of the standard guards' soap, and the hint of sun still clinging to Aris's skin. He hums, content, and tucks his head into Aris's shoulder.

He sleeps.


End file.
